Judging Books By Their Cover
by Andarte
Summary: When Hermione happens across an old book and tries a seemingly simple spell, she gets more than she bargained for. AU/AR. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: The following is a story that I wrote late last year and had posted elsewhere. I chose to delay posting here because I was unsatisfied with the ending, but now that I've completed other stories I was working on I have had the time to go back and "fix" the last chapters, with a few minor alterations along the way._

_It is slightly AU/AR, but I have kept as close to canon as I felt was compatible with my chosen plot. I hope everyone enjoys the tale, and you can expect to have further chapters posted before too long._

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The world seemed to exist in a haze of blurred lights and strange noises, Hermione's senses competing for which could confuse her the most. She felt dizzy, unable to focus or comprehend her surroundings.

"Miss Granger?" asked a voice, concerned and overly high pitched. "Miss Granger, can you hear me, dear?"

As the faintness wore off, if only slightly, Hermione opened her eyes to see Madam Pomfrey staring down at her. Sitting up with a groan, and against Pomfrey's insisting, she looked around and realized she had been brought down from her room and was now sitting on one of the beds in the infirmary, with what looked like bottles of potion scattered on the table beside her. "How long…" she began, having to take a moment to gather her thoughts enough to speak clearly. "How long have I been down here?"

"Well, Miss Granger," answered Madam Pomfrey gently, "you were found last night on the floor by your roommate who claimed she heard a loud thud that woke her from her sleep. That would have been around midnight, and Minerva brought you straight to me. It is now nearly ten o'clock in the morning, and you have had quite a few of us rather concerned. Do you remember what happened, dear?"

"I…" _Bloody hell,_ thought Hermione. _Is there any way of getting around this?_ "I…I don't know. I can barely think, much less see. I… everything looks blurry."

"Alright, dear," said Pomfrey, "stay still for just a minute. I believe I have… ah, here it is. Take this potion, dear. You seem to still be affected by how your head got hit. This should clear things up for you."

Hermione took the potion gratefully and a few seconds later her vision had returned to normal. This caused her to nearly fall off a bed for the second time in less than a day. She stared at Madam Pomfrey and saw… not Madam Pomfrey. That is to say, it _was_ the same healer that had helped her so many times before, from the mistake with the Polyjuice Potion to being petrified. Yet, she wasn't. Her appearance was different, though Hermione couldn't put her finger on the difference.

"Uh… Madam Pomfrey, how long must I stay here?" Hermione asked, trying to think fast. "I would hate to miss my next class over this. I'll have a terrible time catching up already."

The nurse stood there for a moment, considering. Finally she sighed and nodded. "You may go, Miss Granger, but I expect you to check back with me before dinner and again before curfew tonight, and immediately if anything abnormal happens."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said automatically, "I must go now, to change and get my books before Defense Against the Dark Arts class." She hurried out of the room as quickly as possible, trying to avoid mentioning that abnormal things were _already_ happening. _Surely, everything will be back to normal soon. Won't it?_

Trying to push what had happened out of her mind, Hermione nearly ran back to Gryffindor Tower, afraid of missing a second of Dark Arts when she'd already missed her three morning classes. Not that she cared for seeing her teacher in the process of attending class, but some things just couldn't be helped. The farther she went, the more disturbed she became. No one looked as they should, and she was at a loss as to how to fix matters. The only person she passed that looked at all normal was Luna, but that, she supposed, was because Luna was anything _but_ normal.

Hermione could use logic to do anything, and in this instance she used it to convince herself she could not possibly be seeing what she kept thinking she saw. Attributing it to her fall, and the subsequent knot on the back of her head, she continued her denials up until the time she walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts class. There are some things, though, that the mind just doesn't make up. And this was one of them. Walking into the room she saw the black folds of clothing that could belong only to one person. He stood at equal height to any in the room, if not taller than most, and he had the same black hair as always. Yet, as with everyone else, it was not quite the same.

In the case of Severus Snape, though, it was more than "not quite" to Hermione's way of thinking. His hair looked thicker, the black of a raven's feathers with not the slightest trace of gray. As he turned to face the class, she gasped. His face no longer showed his age. The skin was smooth, almost youthful, though just as pale as ever. The paleness was not unattractive though, it was like polished ivory that you knew would feel cold but ever so good to touch. His lips were smooth, and curved almost in a sensual pout, making her think of how it would feel to kiss them. And his eyes. Even from the distance across the room they drew her in. His eyes had always been just black to her, nothing special to be seen in them. But now they were like pools of dark water, a mirror to yourself and yet full of depth that spoke so much of what he kept hidden. They were not the eyes of a young man, as his appearance now seemed to be. Rather, they were full of experience. Experience and pain, more than any should have to face in a lifetime.

"Are you well, Miss Granger," he asked, tone suggesting he couldn't care less for the answer so long as she did not disrupt his class.

"I…I…" she stuttered. His behavior was typical Snape, but she could not shake the visible difference before her. "Madam Pomfrey said I might come to class if I felt well enough, but something strange just happened and I don't think I feel well at all."

"You don't think you are well, Miss Granger? Or you are not well? Those two are not quite the same," he said. His tone sounded bored, but with a distinct edge to it.

"I am not well," she said firmly after making a quick decision.

"So you say," Professor Snape said, and waved his hand towards the door. "Run along then, Miss Granger. Go back to Madam Pomfrey and take care of it, then see me later for your missed assignments."

She went to Madam Pomfrey, but just said she felt exhausted, near collapse, and as expected was told to return to her room for the rest of the night and get some sleep. It was not normally so easy to placate Pomfrey with such vague, and to extent illogical, explanations. Hermione wasn't going to question her luck though, and returned to her room as quickly as possible. It wasn't for sleep that she hurried, though the idea was welcome enough to her drained body. Rather, it was her growing unease. What had she done and why had it gone so terribly wrong? If nothing else, Hermione felt the need to get away from anyone and everyone who might give her more questions when she seemed to have no answers available to her.

As she searched through the things hidden in the bottom of the trunk she kept under her bed, Hermione thought back to what had led up to her present difficulty. When shopping in Diagon Alley at the beginning of the semester, Hermione had found her way to the 'used' section of Flourish & Blotts. After a few minutes of looking, though, she realized there was nothing there that tempted her enough to part with her limited funds. On the way out she had glanced at some of the stalls that lined Diagon Alley, and that is when it had caught her eye. One stall was an estate sell of sorts, run by a strange looking man who sold whatever people had been trying to get rid of. He wasn't knowledgeable, and most ignored him, except those that realized how easily treasures can slip through the cracks. The cover was solid black leather, no imprint upon it, but on the inside the title read "_Of Magical Empathy and Other Skills._" It fascinated her, and after Hermione had used a few quick spells to at least verify that it was truly an antique book, she quickly forked over the price she was given. It hadn't cost much, but even if it had she would have considered it worth every last knut.

Afterwards she realized why the book had drawn her so strongly. It was mentioned in another book she had read as a valued text with few remaining copies, and now one of those limited copies was hers. Hermione had delved into the book eagerly, soon realizing its true nature. While it was not about any Dark Arts, it was the sort that could be imagined to have given way to such abuses of magic. After all, every transgression must start somewhere.

There was one spell that practically called her name. The heading read '_For Understanding of Others,'_ a vague title that, from the rest of the text, Hermione had believed to merely give a sort of push towards insight. It was a simple spell with a simple potion, and she could use all the insight she could get.

Alright, so that sounded bad in light of her current situation. Still, she could not imagine what had caused this outcome. _How can this aid understanding of others?_ She wondered. _I'm not understanding, just seeing… _

_Oh._

Realization came quickly for her, as it usually did (if not quite so quickly as would have been preferable in this instance). You understand others by understanding who they truly were, and that was why she seemed to be seeing everything in a flawed manner. It wasn't flawed. It was completely, horribly right.

What now? If there was anything her ridiculously foolish self still realized was that these spells were not meant to stay with you for the rest of your life. If they did there were consequences, and she could find no spell to undo what she had done. Who could she ask? Not Harry or Ron. Not Professor McGonagall. Not Dumbledore. Nothing seemed the answer until she remembered those dark, beautiful eyes. She had her answer. Who knew more about such questionable arts and potion making than the most dreaded professor of Hogwarts?


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione debated her decision for a good half hour before getting up the nerve to carry it out. So long as Madam Pomfrey didn't catch her out of bed, and Professor Snape behaved like the man she'd seen rather than his usual unhappy self, it might work out alright. _Not expecting much at all, am I? It would serve me right to get caught, performing stupid charms like this._

She found Professor Snape in his office, reading student's papers and muttering unhappily to himself. Hermione had to work to remind herself of the Snape she knew, because the young man before her was a man she was finding it increasingly hard to hate. She might be a bookworm, but she wasn't blind.

"Professor Snape?" she asked timidly, a little unnerved by it all.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he said, looking up at her. "Feeling better, are we?"

"Not exactly. I thought… something strange happened and I thought you could answer some questions for me."

He looked up at her, his eyebrow raised. "Did you, Miss Granger? Have I become your daddy or your nursemaid and not been informed of it?"

She had to stifle a giggle at the thought of him being either, especially in the appearance that she alone saw him with. It would not have done, though, to laugh. Snape never took well to it and was disinclined to help her as it was. "Severus, I…" Hermione stopped in horror, realizing what she had just called him. She opened her mouth to continue, hoping he wouldn't notice, but it was too late.

Snape stood up from behind his desk and walked towards her, glaring. "Ten points from Gryffindor for inappropriately addressing a teacher. Now I expect you to tell me what you have gone and done. First year students waste my time and I try to be patient, but there is no excuse for you doing so, Miss Granger."

Hermione had to look down at the floor before she was able to speak. Looking at him aroused strange sensations in her and it was not convenient for explaining such a terribly inconvenient mistake. "I tried a spell and potion from a book I found. It… makes me see everyone in a strange way."

"Oh, I can assure you that you see everything in a strange way," he answered quickly. "I would know. It has left me with a headache at the end of each and every class you participate in."

"No, that's not what I meant, exactly," she said, frustrated and uncertain as to whether or not she should waste her time objecting to his words. "Everyone looks _different_. Some look older, some younger, and some just different in ways that don't seem to make any sense at all. The spell was for understanding others, and I'm afraid it has done its job by making me see everyone as they are in spirit and not as they would normally look, which has become dreadfully confusing to me."

"Let's try to figure this out in a different way, shall we? How do I appear different to you?" he asked, caution in his eyes. He seemed worried that he knew _exactly_ what she had done, though Hermione was sure the Snape everyone else saw wouldn't have betrayed the thought. Could this be whether her current vision aided in understanding?

"I see you as you really are," she answered simply, and the explanation went completely downhill from there. "You look younger, sort of, and very handsome. Not that you weren't before, because you were. I mean, you weren't. That isn't to say… oh, I'm going about this in a terribly bad way, aren't I?"

Snape's mouth seemed to curve in a slight smile, though once again she was sure it would have been better hidden were she not seeing this strange side of him. She'd never seen any smile on him though, and the sight shocked her. Was it a good thing that he found her situation so apparently humorous or did it make things even worse? He nodded slightly. "Yes, Miss Granger, very badly. Do continue, though, I might at least get some entertainment out of the situation."

Feeling her face turn to scarlet, she tried to salvage the conversation. "I found it in a copy of _Of Magical Empathy and Other Skills_. I'm concerned because though I think I could grow used to this I have always been told by my professors, including yourself, that spells can cause side effects over time that sometimes do harm."

"Overlooking the fact that the book in question is too rare to have come into your hands through any usual means for a moment," he said, "I am pleasantly surprised that you manage to keep quiet and listen long enough to retain that bit of advice. Miss Granger, you have a terrible habit of seeming to forget valuable advice while remembering every unnecessary little fact or ingredient. Have you felt any side effects thus far?"

Hermione felt the blood rush to her face, and was certain it had to be crimson. "Not unless you consider… uh… no, so far I've been fine."

"If you ask my help," he said sternly, "then you must answer my questions."

"I… I'm not sure I can," she said.

"Miss Granger, I insist upon it."

"Fine," she said angrily. Between her anger, his insistence, and what the magic had done, Hermione found herself behaving in a most uncharacteristic way. His eyes were too deep and his lips too inviting. She stepped forward and covered his lips with hers.

Not long afterwards, Severus Snape sat in his office, deep in thought. Disturbed thought. Miss Granger had just left and he'd been given a multitude of things to think about. Foolish of him to allow his office door to be left open, but he doubted any additional warning would have allowed any more preparation for what was to come.

Earlier in the day he had thought her illness feigned. What else would he expect of someone so close to Harry Potter? She was looking at him strangely, but that too was to be expected in his mind. When she showed up in his office, his opinion hadn't altered much. It wasn't until she mentioned the spell, and the book which it had come from, when he had begun to fear the truth. Knowing that, after hearing her call him Severus, had thrown him into thought more troubled even than was usual for him. What did she see when she looked at him? She had said some things, but he found a hard time believing them. Nothing she did or said could be taken at face value, he felt, given the power of the spell and the shock she obviously felt because of it.

After that kiss, which he still didn't know what to make of, Snape had felt the need for time to think. He allowed her some degree of leeway, knowing what he did about the situation. But misbehavior was misbehavior, and he would tolerate none of it. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he had said, "for inappropriate conduct towards my person. Now leave me be while I consider all that you have said, and I will let you know when I have anything more to say on the subject."

She had left in a hurry, apparently as disturbed by her behavior as he was. He had poured himself a drink. He considered searching for a spell or potion that would block her from seeing whatever side of him it was she saw, but quickly decided against it. It would take too long. Better to spend his effort on finding a way to reverse what she had done completely.

Still, it bothered him that she saw anything about him. Snape had worked hard at making sure that no one saw him for who he was. Yes, some knew something of him. Dumbledore thought he understood him, Minerva wanted to help him, and Voldemort believed him to be a loyal death eater. Maybe they were right about him, and maybe they weren't. That didn't mean he had to let them know for sure, or reveal more information than he must. Snape knew he had to stop this before Granger ruined it all.

He considered going to Dumbledore with the matter, knowing the Headmaster to be quite knowledgeable of such older spells. He then dismissed the idea, afraid that anything Hermione learned of him through it would get spread to others if he allowed more people to become involved. _Better to wait_, he thought. _I may yet come up with a solution to this._

Sleep came slowly that night, but by the following afternoon his mind was set. He walked into the classroom at a fast pace, letting the door slam shut behind him. His students feared him already, but now more than ever he felt the need to bury a certain part of himself more deeply within. Perhaps there was no hiding from Granger's spell, but it made him feel better to try.

"Open your texts to page one hundred and fifty seven and begin the exercise listed. Do try not to destroy anything in the process. You have exactly forty-five minutes to complete it. Oh, and Miss Granger, see me after class regarding the work you turned in."

She nodded at his words, a strange look on her face yet again, and went straight into her work. The minutes went by slowly, dreading the conversation that might follow afterwards, but he filled his time with all the ways to deduct points from his students' houses. Five points from Hufflepuff for a whining student who felt the assigned work too difficult – too bad he hadn't made his voice equally difficult to hear. Another five were deducted from Ravenclaw for performing the spell badly. Ten from Gryffindor for two particularly stupid students, and even five from Slytherin for casting spells on other students while they should have been doing their assignment.

By the end of class, Snape felt much better, and his students left as quickly as they might from a dragon's cave. Only one hung around, and when the last of the student's voices disappeared down the hallway she approached his desk. He was pleasantly surprised at her silence. She was waiting for him to speak for once, rather than launching straight into whatever she might think.

"I have determined, Miss Granger, that the less said about your present difficulty as possible is best at the moment. When all is said and done a punishment must be decided on for what you have done, but for now I will focus merely on the solution. That may take some time, while I research the matter. You are not, under any circumstances, to try to fix this on yourself. You have done harm enough without worsening things."

"I understand," she said simply. Whatever else she had on her mind, she kept to herself, and left him to consider what seemed a new side of Miss Granger.


	3. Chapter 3

Snape threw the book down onto the rest of the pile. All evening, book after book, he had searched. Four hours later, he had little more than the original spell itself. Miss Granger wasn't the only one in Hogwart's to possess a copy of the damned book, _Of Magical Empathy and Other Skills_, however she seemed the only one who hadn't had to search for some time and pay a good deal to obtain it. That fact alone made him concerned, but things such as luck did exist whether he chose to rely on them personally or not.

If he had a choice, such a young wizard as she would never have gotten her hands on it to begin with. The book was well respected in the wizarding world, but was far from child's play. Those copies that existed were only copies of copies made of copies – it had been centuries since an original had been seen, and who was to say that everything had been copied completely and accurately? That alone was enough to make many wizards hesitate before using the spells, and it had long been considered a tool for understanding magical history rather than a contemplation of spells one might actually use. At best they were unpredictable, but, as in the case of Miss Granger, many spells didn't fully explain what they were for. He had heard of a muggle game of chance – Russian Roulette. That game was what this book made him think of.

_For the Understanding of Others_

_Timing is quite essential in this instance. The potion should be swallowed all at once, with the spell 'Reperio Latebra' spoken immediately afterwards. Delay in completion can result in spell failure or unpleasant side effects._

_Potion requires 4 grains of Coriander, ground to powder; a pinch of ash from the burning of Elder; a pinch of coarsely ground Frankincense, and as much Saffron as to equal half a pinch. Steep ingredients until a blue sheen appears, then chill immediately._

The ingredients were far from usual, and the preparation method unlike most he had encountered. His research had given him a couple of ideas for reversing it, but he was far from confident in any of them. Sighing, he called for a house elf and asked that they bring Hermione to his office. When she arrived a few minutes later he had once again pulled out several books and had them all laid out and open on the desk before him.

"Miss Granger," he said, attention divided between the student and the book in his hand, "come sit down. We have an hour before curfew, and the sooner we make progress on this, the better."

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I…"

"No need to speak, Miss Granger, I am preoccupied currently but will let you know when I need your input." He had raised one hand to quiet her, but never looked up from the book. The silence was welcome, but the feeling that she was staring at him was unnerving, and soon he decided that some conversation would be necessary.

"Are you certain that you followed the book's directions exactly? No variation in ingredients or preparation? The slightest difference would require a different approach to reversing things."

"Of course I'm certain, professor. It followed them exactly and it had the blue color that the book described."

"Very well then," he said. "Since I'm still deciding on what would be best to attempt first, you may tell me more of what this spell has done. What exactly do you pick up on from people? Is there one characteristic more than another that is easier to see? Or something that is still primarily hidden from you?"

"I already told you what I see as well as I was able," she said, voice a little high pitched and frustrated.

"Then you may do so again."

Hermione stared at him, clenching her teeth for a second before speaking. "When I look at you, I feel like there is a part of you that is still a young man, more like you had remained a student rather than coming into your own as a professor. I feel like your harshness towards others is an attempt to make them fear you when they wouldn't otherwise, a sort of false show of power. I think you are capable of more than you show, but afraid of anyone knowing your limits. You keep everyone at arms length so you won't feel responsible to them, because if you are responsible and fail in your duties than you would hate yourself. More than you already hate yourself, that is, which is more than you deserve to be hated."

"Quite presumptuous of you, isn't it, Miss Granger?"

She laughed. "Hardly. What I said is what I see written across your face, as clearly as you read words in a book, and I know them to be true. It might have been presumptuous to give voice to it, but was not in this instance because you specifically asked me to do it."

"You are an infuriating little git," he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

"You have informed me of that opinion before, professor. However, you saying it now is not out of anger at me, but in anger and frustration that there is anything that can get past the walls you've put around yourself. Walls that shouldn't be there, that do more harm than good, and ensure your unhappiness."

His voice was deep with that angry iciness he used so often. "Those walls, as you call them, keep people alive."

"What is the point of being alive if you are wishing you were dead?" she countered.

"I deserve to be dead, and if my actions protect others who don't deserve it then so be it. Now leave my office, and come back when you've learned some respect."

He saw a change in her eyes. They grew sadder, and seemed almost to turn a darker shade. She turned and left as silently as she had done before. This time though, there was a defeated air about her.

Sighing and somewhat regretting his anger, Snape cleared his throat and called out, "Sleep well, Miss Granger."

"See, professor?" she replied, smiling back at him before closing the door behind her. "You aren't all bad after all. Sleep well."

_You aren't all bad after all._ Those words had taken him off guard, more so than he already had been. She had told him to sleep well, but sleep was the last thing he managed that night. Instead, he laid in his bed thinking about all the terrible things that had happened to him in the past, at all the terrible things he had done or caused to be done to others. Oh yes, he did hate himself, and he did deserve to be dead. That he wasn't dead, and that a student who had always seemed to despise him would pity him, that was something he couldn't understand. He wondered, though, if it was pity at all. There was a difference, of course, between pity and compassion. And while compassion wasn't something he was accustomed to encountering, he had begun to suspect that was what she offered. The prospect stirred in him a certain affection that he recognized as dangerous, and for several days he claimed to be working alone on her remedy, spending as little time as possible in Hermione Granger's presence.

He told himself that a little time away would resolve the emotional problems, but he found that the opposite was occurring. Every night he found himself unable to sleep, and every morning he found himself more out of sorts than the day before. Everything troubled him, and he found the only things that might offer him some measure of comfort were the very things he didn't trust himself enough to allow. Still, after three miserable mornings and three evenings of his eyes lingering on her at supper, he found himself running low on excuses.

"Miss Granger," he said, seeing her in the hallway. "If you have the time, I would like to see you in my office today. Any time that suits you."

He saw her staring at him, unused to politeness from her Potions, now DADA, professor. He knew it sounded weak, unlike his normal self, but there was little else to be done. Having to be satisfied with a slight nod from Hermione – _when had she become Hermione to him?_ – he barricaded himself in his office with a bottle of fire whiskey. By the time he heard her knock on the door, he was several glasses in and not quite what you would call sober. Opening the door, he invited her in and offered a chair. She looked at him strangely until she caught sight of the fire whiskey bottle and a half full glass, then tried rather poorly to hide a grin.

"What?" he asked, trying to decipher the look on her face.

"I don't want to say," she laughed. "It wouldn't be nice to say to a professor."

"Well I do believe the current situation sent proper behavior to hell, so while there is no one else around you may say what is on your mind." He wasn't sure why he was giving her that sort of permission, but somehow it seemed important to him that she be open with him.

"What, as if we were friends?" she asked, stunned.

"Something like that, I suppose," he said. "Though I don't know I want anyone else hearing of this arrangement."

She smiled, and her eyes were bright with happiness. "Your secret is safe with me. They are all safe with me."

"Mhm," he mumbled. "So what were you thinking before?"

"I was wondering if, assuming you have drank all of that fire whiskey since I saw you in the halls, it had put you in an unusually good mood."

"I don't know that I would say that, Miss Granger. I do feel less tense, but I believe I worry as much if not more."

"You know," she said, still smiling, "if we are going to be friends—while no one is around, that is—then you could call me Hermione. I don't know that I really care for being called Miss Granger."

Snape winced. "I don't think that would be the best idea, Miss Granger."

"Why not?" she asked, studying him. "For some reason I thought you would like not having to address me so formally."

"I would," he said slowly. "However I think it would be better if I did not. There is a side to me, which you saw my anger at having brought closer to the surface, that… shall we say… feels lonely. I have seen far too many people find themselves in compromised situations because they indulged themselves to prevent loneliness."

"You are saying things without saying them," Hermione said sharply. She was silent for a moment, considering the meaning in his words. "Could it not be that loneliness is something to be avoided, because it causes people to act without thinking? So would it not be better for you to remedy the solution now, while you are, quite obviously, still thinking of things in a somewhat logical manner? Everyone makes choices, and just because others chose poorly doesn't mean that you will."

He sighed and sat down on a couch he had sitting of in a corner of his office, leaning back until comfortable. "I normally make poor choices, Hermione. That is why I'm in the position I'm in. Why should I give myself so much credit to think that I would choose better this time?"

"How can I answer that when you are so very vague about the choice in question?"

"I must remain vague or it would be leaning towards a decision."

She stared at him for a second with a look that called him ridiculous, then started giggling. "Decisions have to be made sometime, and you have managed them in the past with other things. When was the last time you got sleep, anyway?"

"Too long," he said simply.

"Then sleep now," she said, "and make your decisions later when you can think clearly."

"But I can't," he said, exasperated. "I have tried and couldn't because of these things weighing on my mind. I will sleep when my body can stay awake no longer."

"Isn't there anything else you can do?"

He clenched his hands into fists on his lap, watching as his knuckles turned the white of a ghost. "There… well… yes, but it isn't possible."

"What is it?" she asked gently.

_Bloody hell. I had to go and admit it, didn't I? I knew she would press the question._ Snape knew that, in some ways, he had wanted her to. He wanted relief, and comfort, though it pained him to admit it. She had broken through his defenses more effectively than any other could hope to, and now that young boy inside him had risen to the surface and seemed determined to have his way."I won't say. I can't say."

"You've asked me to say things I've been uncomfortable with, Severus, and I've indulged you. Indulge me now."

Taking a deep breath, and looking anywhere but at her, he answered the question. "Your presence comforts me. I think it has for some time, although until you cast that spell I had been content to ignore the knowledge and be angry at you instead. Now that I've faced it, I find the only thing I want to be comfortable, to feel as if I could sleep, would be you lying beside me and in my arms."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione stared at him, confused. "What was it, three days ago that you became angry at me for kissing you? Four? Inappropriate conduct to your person, I believe you called it, and my house lost fifty points because of me."

"I wasn't asking you to kiss me. I can only imagine how repulsive the idea should be to you, and is to everyone else," he muttered softly, his accepting tone digging straight to her heart.

She stared at him, studying his features. His black hair hung in waves, almost to his shoulder, and the way he let it hang made her think he wished to hide the rest of his features behind it. That didn't quite work, though, and she could still see the beautiful features of his face. His skin was pale, like porcelain, and his eyes a pool of liquid black which she easily found herself getting lost in. His nose was hooked, but looked distinguished on him rather than ugly. His lips were thin, and not what most would consider inviting, but to Hermione they had a beautiful curve to them and fit him wonderfully. She had kissed him before, and the only part she regretted was that he was so bothered by it. No, contrary to his opinion of himself and everyone else, the idea of kissing him was nowhere near repulsive, however much she knew it _should be_ to kiss a teacher_._

Had she not always hated him for his cruelty? Yet here she was, sympathizing with him and quickly heading to the conclusion that he was far from as cruel to the world as the world had been cruel to him. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tightly. Something like how a mother would embrace her child, and yet not quite. The affection she was beginning to feel was not of a maternal nature, which was perhaps what frightened her the most.

"If you believed yourself the most handsome man in the world, then would you wish me to kiss you?" she asked him.

"Perhaps, but you see, I am not and so it does not matter," he answered bitterly, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"I see," she said. "Well, Severus, though I will not claim to have thought it in the past, from where I am standing you _are_ the most handsome man in the world, but I will not risk rejection a second time by kissing you now."

He looked at her oddly, as if trying to see into her to where the deception lay hidden. Try as he might, though, he could not find it, and he seemed determined that that just meant he must look harder. "You are lying. People always lie. Women especially. They claim to love you, to care for you, then they leave you for another."

"I don't know what woman did that to you, Severus," Hermione said angrily, "but it was not I. I am not lying to you, and even if I had wanted to I'm not sure I could given how keenly this spell causes me to see your pain. I offer you what is, if only briefly, a respite from that pain, and you throw it away as if you treasure that pain and despise happiness."

"Hermione," he whispered, pulling her over to the couch with him. "I don't despise happiness. I despise myself for hoping that happiness could be mine, when experience has taught me again and again that it cannot."

"Well if you are going to be miserable later, why not take what comfort you can now?" she asked, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. There was nothing sexual in it, though she wasn't sure that she would have denied him had he tried anything. It was just comfort, and for once Severus Snape let down his walls to allow some measure of happiness to trickle in. They lay there for some time, and when they woke from the reverie, it was morning.

He kissed her forehead gently. "Hermione, it might be best if we parted ways now rather than later. It is still early enough for you to return to Gryffindor tower without any realizing where you have spent your night. I have not slept so peacefully in years, but I don't want you to pay the price for it."

She nodded, and straightened her clothes quickly before hastening through the halls of Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't caught in those halls, but on the way she realized she would pay the price for that night all the same. Nothing could stay as it was, and she was a fool for hoping otherwise.

She tried to enter quietly, but walking through the common room she saw Ginny Weasley sitting up and rubbing her eyes, a open textbook fallen on the floor beside her. "Hermione?" she whispered. "Where have you been? I was waiting up to ask for your help with a class… it must have been two in the morning when I drifted off."

"Shush, Ginny," said Hermione, "don't wake anyone. I think it's around six in the morning, though it may be a bit before. Everyone will be waking before too much longer, and I have no mind to be caught like this when they do."

"Then I'll say you have been here with me all night, that we fell asleep studying," said Ginny, her voice a younger version of Mrs. Weasley's firm orders. "But if I'm keeping your secret, then you will have to tell me where you have been."

"I can't," said Hermione. "I want to, Ginny, but I can't."

"Why?" the girl asked. Ginny might be a fifth year now, but her curiosity hadn't diminished over the years.

Hermione sat down on the couch, burying her head in her hands. "Because you couldn't understand. _I_ don't even understand."

"Was it with a boy?" asked Ginny, eyes going wide with excitement.

"Sort of," said Hermione.

"Sort of?" asked Ginny. "How can it sort of be a boy?"

"WellIdon'tsupposeheisaboyanymore," mumbled Hermione quickly, looking at Ginny in horror.

"What?" said Ginny, her expression showing she was very much afraid she had heard correctly.

"I don't suppose he is a boy anymore," repeated Hermione slowly through clenched jaws.

If Ginny's imitation of her mother had been weak before, she perfected it then. "Explain."

"What happened a few days ago," Hermione said, starting at the beginning. "It was the result of a spell I cast and a potion I took without fully understanding its purpose. Long story short, it has caused me to see people in a new way. To see things about them I wouldn't have ever known before. I went to Snape for help, and I guess I've begun seeing him in a new way too. I was in his office talking the problem over, and fell asleep there."

"What do you mean when you say you have begun seeing him in a new way?" asked Ginny warily.

Hermione sighed. "I mean I have begun feeling…well, I guess attracted to him. I sympathize with him, and no longer judge him for his past or his rather scathing personality. I just feel affection instead of hate."

"Well you had better get over that," said Ginny, trying to ignore the horror she felt at an attraction to Snape and focus solely on Hermione's safety. "It is always the woman who gets burned the worst. And Hermione, you'd be better off playing with fire than playing with Severus Snape."

_Better off playing with fire than playing with Severus Snape._ Those words seemed stuck in Hermione's mind. Did it matter than she wasn't playing? Or that it mattered little what she thought, for she didn't really expect Severus would permit another lapse as he had the other night? For almost six years, Hermione had seen Professor Snape in the worst light, despite having stood up for him a time or two against Harry and Ron when she felt they were too harsh about it, and she had been content to see him so. She had seen his anger and every other dark emotion he possessed, that quite frankly seemed to be the only emotions he possessed.

Never would she have expected a softer side, a side that was merely damaged by a lifetime of pain and darkness. Never would she have expected that when those walls came down, there was kindness and affection to be found as well. Then again, she had never expected herself to behave in such a manner either. It was completely unlike her, but completely like her at the same time. For better or worse, the spell was doing its job well.

Again they went days in silence, Snape not managing to look her in the eyes during class, and Hermione feeling herself nearly blush whenever his eyes drifted her direction the rest of the time. They both seemed to be struggling with the same question. Was it better, to leave things as they were, and wait for things to pass? Or, knowing that the spell might never be removed and the feelings might never fade, was a moment of comfort worth the risk it required? Some decisions are easier to delay than to face.

"Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall one day in transfiguration. "Is there some reason the rest of the class has completed their assignment but you are simply staring at it?"

Hermione looked up at her professor in panic, not having heard the instructions or known how the time had passed. Glancing around quickly and seeing the rest of the class staring at her, she looked down at the quill on her desk and quickly transfigured it into a butterfly.

"Five points from Gryffindor for inattention, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall with a slight chuckle, "and ten for Gryffindor for excellent work. Do try to pay attention now."

The rest of class continued in a haze, and her attention was scarcely any better in her other classes. When evening came and she went to see Professor Snape she found him sitting in his office quietly, skin even paler than normal, eyes lacking the brightness she had seen before. He said little, just handed her a vial of yellowish potion. "That should put everything back to normal," he said quietly, "just take it and use the Finite Incantatem."

Nodding, and in a more somber mood herself, Hermione opened the vial and prepared herself to take it. She wasn't entirely sure that she _wanted_ to give it up, but knew that in the end it would be best. Swallowing the foul liquid quickly, Hermione cast the proper spell on herself. Not that she had ever seen someone use a Finite Incantatem on themselves, but that didn't mean it couldn't be done. She felt lightheaded for a moment, allowing herself to fall into the nearest chair, and had a splitting headache for a minute that left as abruptly as it had came. Finally, she looked up at Severus, who was leaning against his desk and watching her in concern. _Watching me with those beautiful black eyes._

"Well?" he asked. "Has everything reverted to normal?"

She stared at him, wide eyed. "I think I need to go look around for a second," she said, walking out of his office and to a hall where several students were going about their day. She recognized two, and to her relief they looked exactly as they had before she had gotten her hands on that bloody spell.

Walking back into Severus' office, she realized what it was had gone so wrong. Those beautiful black eyes, and all of the rest of him that she had been admiring lately – it was still there. The potion had done its work, but she still saw Severus in a way that could only cause problems.

"Has everything reverted to normal?" he repeated.

"Almost," she said, hearing her voice squeak a bit.

"Define _almost_, Miss Granger," he said.

"Well, Severus, it seems I see others normally," Hermione answered, unsure of what he would think. "Except you. I still see you as I described before, and that hasn't even come close to reverting to what was normal."

Severus seemed to let out a deep breath that he had been holding, and began to pace back and forth across the room as he gathered his thoughts. "The way you see me now," he said as she walked over to him, "is it the exact same? Or is it just the same but without the... er... affection you felt previously?"

Hermione felt a wall in herself breaking down. Logic had told her that certain things were impossible, and should not be attempted. Certain feelings could not be allowed to surface. But who was she to build walls in herself when she had lectured him for doing so? And if the spell had reversed but she saw him very much the same...

She put her arms around him and rested her head against him before answering. "I'm afraid it is the exact same. Do you think... should we try again to change it? What can be done?"

"I'm sure you are quite right in not desiring any affection for me. It could only lead to problems, Hermione," he said, holding on to her. Sighing, he corrected himself. "Miss Granger. It may well be that this matter should be taken to Albus, though I had hoped it wouldn't be necessary."

"How do you think he will take it, knowing we delayed telling him?" she asked.

"Oh," said Severus, "no doubt he will tell us that we should have come to him sooner with the problem. However, Albus is a surprising man at times, and I would not venture to guess what he will do. I find it unlikely that he will be angry in us though, however correct he would be in such anger."

"We haven't done anything wrong," she said firmly. "I don't see that we have broken any rules at all here."

"You did violate curfew the other night," he point out with a slight smile.

"Whose side are you on here, anyway?" she asked, punching him playfully._ Bloody hell, _she thought to herself, _he is right. There is no way this would be permissible, even though in many ways we have behaved perfectly so far._ Her thoughts made her mind stray elsewhere, to somewhere it most definitely didn't need to go just then.

"I am on your side, Hermione," said Severus. "But that doesn't mean we get what we want."

_What we want_, she thought abruptly. _Was that an admission of something? Damn it all, it is a shame we are both such logical people. Normally, anyway._ "So we are going to Dumbledore?" she asked him.

"Yes, tomorrow. I believe you have a free period in the afternoon? Meet me at his office then. I will send him a note here in a minute so that he will expect us."

She nodded. "Sleep well tonight, Severus. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hermione?" he said as she reached for the door. When she turned to look at him he was running one of his hands through his hair and seemed a bit unnerved, but continued anyway. "Since we will be giving this all up when we go to him, do you think... could we fall asleep on the couch one more time?"

It made her heart melt, seeing him and hearing the words. In one way, he was very much a grown man, and he had experiences to fill a lifetime. But in another, he was still a young man who felt alone and just wanted a companion. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Whatever trouble might come of all of this, it was bound to come anyway. What could it hurt?

Kicking off their shoes, the strange pair curled up together on the couch, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her waist. He kissed her forehead lightly, and she tilted her head back to kiss his cheek. Feeling the warmth of their bodies against each other, and the sensation of being in each others arms, she suddenly found Severus kissing her lips gently.

With each slight kiss there was a question, and with the next an answer and another question. They knew each kiss would make things harder in the morning, but somehow found themselves continuing regardless. Her question of 'what could it hurt?' began to sound foolish, though Hermione didn't find herself stopping matters either.

She felt his hand making its way under her uniform, and when she felt his hand on her bare skin she felt chills going up her spine and began unfastening his shirt. His chest was pale and slightly muscular, and Hermione explored his skin with her hands. As she moved across his otherwise smooth skin, she felt all the scars of his life under her fingertips. She felt his reaction in their kiss, and his lips moved to kiss her neck as their hands' exploration continued.

There is a point where two people have to make a decision, because past that point there is no room for decision making. No room to stop what has already begun. As hands and lips explored each other, the two felt that point looming near.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione and Severus had neared that climax, and had held back. There was too much guilt, too much self-doubt to do otherwise, and so they had resigned themselves to sleeping in each other's arms.

Hermione was gripping her uniform as she sat in the Headmaster's office the next morning. It had been so wonderful waking up on the couch with Severus' arms around her, but that feeling seemed distant compared to her nervousness of that moment. It wasn't that she was afraid of getting in trouble for what had already occurred. Rather, she was afraid that what would come of it would prevent that trouble from escalating, regardless of the fact it might be for the best if things did end. Severus was sitting in a chair a few feet away, his back straight and wearing his characteristic frown. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but she knew that wouldn't go over well.

"Perhaps you should tell me everything from the beginning, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore gently. "Professor Snape informs me that you had a spell go a bit wrong and came to him for help."

"Uh, yes," Hermione said, glancing at Snape for reassurance she knew he couldn't bring himself to give in Dumbledore's presence. "Well, it started with this book..."

About half an hour later, Hermione was sitting in her chair finishing the story, and Dumbledore was sitting on his side of his desk in silence. After a silence that had her squirming even more in her chair, Dumbledore spoke. "I would never encourage a relationship between professor and student. Certain difficulties are bound to arise from such an arrangement, and it would not be seen as appropriate for me to know of such a relationship and to allow it. That being said, sometimes the letter of the law is not quite as important as what was meant by it. Miss Granger, you recently turned seventeen, did you not?"

"Yes," she said, not quite sure where he was heading with this.

"And Professor Snape," said Dumbledore, "you have not been giving any undue favor to her in class?"

"Absolutely not," said Severus.

"Exactly as I had suspected," continued Dumbledore. "From what I can tell, you are both of age and have not used your position for any inappropriate gain. So it follows that, so long as it does not become public knowledge and disrupt classes here at Hogwarts, I don't seem to have any reason to punish or separate the two of you."

Surprised at the twinkling eyes and words of the Headmaster, Hermione looked over at Severus, whose face was still characteristically blank, and found herself becoming infuriated. _Damn that man,_ she thought to herself, _he knew all along what Dumbledore would say and let me worry anyway._

"And the remainder of the spell?" she asked. "What is to be done there?"

"As to that," said Dumbledore, "I doubt very much that there is any spell still in place. You reversed it, quite well I must say, and what remains is something that could have a non-magical cause."

The rest of their meeting with Dumbledore went by in a bit of a blur. _A non-magical cause._ Surely, he didn't mean... he couldn't mean _that_. It was nearly as startling to her as the fact that Dumbledore hadn't lectured them on the impropriety of their behavior and at the least forbidden further contact out of class. Oh, but Severus hadn't been surprised, and Hermione hadn't forgotten that particular detail.

She went with him to his rooms for the first time, and it was not quite like anything she had expected previously. It held a certain amount of chill, a certain lack of warmth that was mirrored in his personality towards most people. Yet there was something about him, and about his rooms, that relaxed Hermione and made her feel safer than anywhere else. They sat by his fireplace, trying to escape the chill that seemed inevitable in the winter months, and thought about all that had happened.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked, unable to resist the question.

"How did I know what?"

She glared at him, partly in jest because she was certain it was his own strange humor, partly serious because he would joke about something important to her. "How did you know Dumbledore would take the news so well?"

"Do you think," said Severus, with a strange look in his eyes, "that I mysteriously began feeling affection towards you after you so insolently kissed me that first time? That there was no feeling or thought previously that might hint at some feeling for you?"

"I hadn't really considered it," she said honestly. "It had crossed my mind briefly, but there were so many things to consider that I thought little about it. And when I did think of it I didn't believe there was hope that you had."

"Well, Miss Granger," he said, grinning at the look on her face when he addressed her formally, "it may come to a surprise to you, but it can be refreshing to be surrounded by someone who has a certain degree of intelligence rarely found in the student body at Hogwarts. I found your know-it-all attitude rather infuriating the first few years, I admit, but after that I felt some happiness that there was someone other than myself who understood the value of the subject I was teaching. Not to mention someone who absorbed the knowledge so readily. It's often thought that Gryffindor and Slytherin are completely different, but I find there is a kind of loyalty to be found in both. As angry as it has made me on numerous occasions, I found your loyalty to your friends also refreshing. In my lifetime there have been few, if any, so loyal to me, and it has always been a weakness of mine to secretly crave such a companion."

"The great Severus Snape admitting weakness?" she mumbled quietly. Severus looked at her for a moment, not sure what to think, then realized she was joking and pulled her into his arms.

"Yes," he said, "Severus Snape admitting weakness. Don't expect that to occur too often though."

Hermione snuggled closer to him, pulling his arms tighter around her. "I don't think I'd like you quite as much if you weren't so stubborn and determined to have no weaknesses."

"Oh yes, you of all people should recognize stubbornness quite easily." It was his turn to mumble, and he seemed delighted by the opportunity to provoke her.

Hermione gaped at him. "What exactly is that supposed to mean? I am not that stubborn."

"Hermione, you are among the most stubborn people I have ever met in my life," he said, kissing her neck in between words. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's certainly accurate."

She turned towards him and kissed him back, starting things where they had left off the night before. It was a Saturday morning and neither had anywhere to be, so she felt little reason to hold back. They practically had Dumbledore's permission, not that she thought they would have behaved anyway, all things considered.

"Is this how I'm to be treated whenever I admit weakness?" asked Severus, breaking away for a moment.

Hermione shrugged. "Perhaps."

That slight smile broke across his face again, making him look almost boyish, and the next thing Hermione knew he was carrying her to his bed. The thought excited her even more, and she felt what was almost a chill run down her spine. Her hips ached, her stomach tightened in a pool of tension and heat – she needed him.

When they reached the bed she started unfastening his clothes, trying to bring herself closer to him. His kisses had been gentle enough, but through his robes she could feel his need as well.

The previous night had left them both aching, and neither wished for a repeat of that now. They alternated between trying to remove more clothing and touching and kissing what skin was already exposed. Every few minutes they would tear something unintentionally or some other awkwardness would occur, but within moments their desire for one another would have that moment forgotten.

Hermione wanted to kiss every inch of him, but Severus wanted the same and was stronger than she. Not that Hermione had much room for complaints, not as good as that man was making her feel. He kissed her lips, trailing down her neck to her breasts, and then her hips. She felt a bit of tension, not sure what she thought of where she believed him to be heading, only to realize he had skipped over a certain region and gone down to her ankles, working his way back up. By the time he neared her hips once more, Hermione was near begging for what she'd been so uncertain about before. She wasn't kept waiting any longer, and through his lips, tongue, and fingers, Hermione found herself reaching heights she had never brought herself to on her own. Later she would wonder if it was having a man there that made the difference, or if it was just _this_ man that was so remarkable, but for the moment she had little patience for such thoughts.

Severus found himself even more aroused by the soft moaning he was extracting from her with his efforts. He didn't need to ask, he could tell by her behavior that she had never been with a man. Severus was determined to make it as pleasant, with as little pain, as possible. He made love to her body, knowing it would be a long time before he could do so in words, if ever. When finally he had tasted her enough, and he thought her ready, he brought himself to her opening and pushed gently. Just slightly, barely entering her though she gasped at it and he could feel her body move under him. Pulling out and thrusting back in, he gradually went deeper until he felt himself in her completely. She was so tight and hot, so welcoming to his attentions.

He had never expected to be with a woman who wanted him so completely. Oh, he had been with his share of women over the years, but they had wanted only a part of him if they wanted him at all. And here was this beautiful young woman, laying beneath him and opening herself to him. Her hips rose to meet each thrust, and her hands roamed over his shoulders and back, gripping him roughly at each new thrust. It had been a long time, and though he wanted so much to please her, the feeling of being inside of her and the sweet sounds he heard come from her lips finally overcame him.

Hermione had not done so much with boys as her friends, but she hadn't closed her ears when friends spoke of it either. She had heard enough and read enough to expect some pain, some disappointment. But that was far from the case. There was pain when he first entered her, but that pain was replaced so quickly with pleasure that moments later it became only a faint memory. It went on forever, and yet not long enough. Hermione felt as if her eyes were going to roll straight back in her head and stay there, her body full of tension and heat that Severus released in her several times. The sensations were pure bliss, whether it was the slow movements he began with, the faster, harder movements at the end, or the varying ones in between.

Still, as wonderful as it was, she found nearly equal bliss in laying there in his arms afterwards. They said nothing, just laid there. It was so different from falling asleep in his office. More comfortable, to be sure, but mostly it was the fact that she felt no guilt in it. Not now.

Normally there were things enough to do on a Saturday, whether for enjoyment or catching up on a week of work. Neither felt much need to think of those things just then, and soon they drifted off to a very peaceful sleep, their still bare skin entwined beneath the cool silk sheets.

Severus and Hermione awoke from their nap soon after lunch, and ordered food from a house elf that was instructed quite carefully to speak of what they saw to no one. They could have spent the entire day together, but instead decided it would be too suspicious for her to disappear all day long. Severus, on the other hand, claimed he could disappear all he liked and none would be the wiser. However much Hermione thought that unfair, she conceded he had a point.

The rest of the afternoon Severus spent on potions, working on perfecting a few ideas and restocking the infirmary's stores. He barely noticed when Dumbledore entered the room. Barely. There were still few that could go unnoticed by Severus. His life depended too much on being aware of everything.

"You seem at peace, Severus," Dumbledore told him. "Surprisingly so. It is good to see. You deserve nothing less."

Severus considered his words, and those of that morning. "You were far from surprised. In fact, you seemed almost delighted by what happened. Almost as if it were a plan you were watching come to fruition."

"I would be quite thrilling were that the case," said Dumbledore casually. "Of course, if I knew something of it I would not go around admitting it. It would seem, though, that all the two of you needed was the slightest push for this happiness."

"Do you think we would have cared for each other eventually without that push?" asked Severus, slightly concerned at the thought that their affection was merely that of two people being manipulated.

"I think the two of you would have found each other eventually," Dumbledore told him as he walked back out of the room.

"Thank you, Albus," said Severus, unsure whether the Headmaster even heard him.


	6. Chapter 6

"What is going on with you, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from her book to see Ron standing next to the table where she was studying. "Keep it down, Ron," she told him. "You know Madam Pince doesn't appreciate voices above a whisper. Now what are you talking about?"

Ron gave her a look calling her a liar, although she hadn't really said anything that was a lie yet. "You have barely said anything to me or Harry the past couple weeks, and I don't think you've been talking to Ginny either. She seems to think it's because of a boy, but I know that can't be true. I just want to know what is wrong so I can help."

"Can't be true?" She repeated, her eyebrow rising to accentuate the question. "Assuming for the moment that Ginny has a point, why couldn't it be true?"

"Because, Mione," he said confidently, "you just aren't that kind of girl."

Hermione could have said a lot of things, but her desire to keep her secret kept her temper slightly in check. Silently she closed her book, placed it and her notes in the bag she had with her, and walked away. She had just made into the hallway when she felt a hand grab her shoulder.

"Don't just walk away," Ron said when she turned to face him. "We've been friends for years. I'm worried."

"Obviously not," she told him. "Because _obviously_ it can't be a boy, which would mean I'm probably just in a weird mood lately. See? Case solved. You can stop worrying. I'm just a bookworm who will learn to value her solitude as she watches her other friends grow up and have boyfriends or girlfriends. I'm not blind, Ron. I know what Ginny said about your, shall we say, lack of experience. I know what has been going on between you and Lavender."

"So what, you are jealous?"

Hermione stared at him, still not believing her ears. "No, I'm not. I think you and Lavender are _perfect_ for each other, _believe me_. In fact, you should go find her right now and just snog until you forget all about me. You seem to have no problem doing that normally. I will go on being my unattractive self who no boy would ever want to be with, and I will be just fine."

"I never said you were unattractive," Ron said, trying to make up for whatever he said wrong. "You are quite pretty."

"That's not what you said," she told him, pointing her finger at his face. "You said it _couldn't_ be a boy."

"Bloody hell, Mione. That's not what I meant. I just mean I think I'd know if that's what it was."

"Of course you would!" she almost yelled, amazed at his genius. Trying to restrain her temper was taking its toll, and Hermione found herself near tears. "As I recall, two years ago you knew automatically about Viktor Krum. That wasn't a surprise to you at all."

Turning away once more she felt Ron's hand on her arm and tried to struggle her way out of his grasp. She was crying then, unable to believe Ron's lack of sensitivity.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," said Severus from behind them, sounding decidedly bored. "As much as it would normally amuse me to see Gryffindors fighting amongst themselves, it is hardly appropriate behavior for the halls."

Ron let go of her arm abruptly, taking a step back. Not taking his eyes off Severus he said told Hermione they would discuss it later and walked off.

"It seems Weasley has some sense of self preservation," said Severus, his voice so soft that only she could hear, but his expression stern enough that no one passing by would think anything of it. "I could have crucio'd him for putting his hands on you like that."

Quickly wiping her tears away, Hermione tried to make her face look as if Severus was making her uncomfortable, although it couldn't have been further from the truth. "It wasn't him grabbing my arm that upset me the most."

"Yes, I heard the last of it. I do wonder though why you have decided to turn your affection towards me when I'm sure you could have Mr. Krum rather easily."

"Just because I can have something doesn't mean I want it," she answered honestly. "Besides, Ron was right about one thing."

Severus frowned even more severely. "What is that?"

"It's not a boy that I have a thing for," she said teasingly. "It's a man."

His lips twitched as he fought back a rather boyish grin and the desire to kiss her. "That is true in some respects, Miss Granger. Although I think you bring out the young boy in me."

"You know," she said, trying to fight back a smile of her own, "I think I have been a bad girl."

Severus stared at her, wondering what she was getting at but feeling himself going semi-hard from her wording. "Have you?"

"Mhm," she said, moistening her lips with her tongue. "I think I have earned detention tonight."

He suppressed a groan and was growing increasingly uncomfortable. She had used the wording on purpose, and now his mind was wandering to places it didn't need to be going when he was standing in the hallway for all to see. His robes might hide the most obvious sign of his arousal, but it was increasingly difficult to maintain a severe and disinterested facial expression. Oh, Hermione would pay for this tonight. "Be at my office at seven for your detention."

Hermione kept her voice low, but risked a grin. "With pleasure."

She spent much of her afternoon in study. With all that had happened, she had found herself slipping in her work. It wasn't that she was behind – that wasn't something Hermione would permit herself to do. Rather, she just wasn't as _ahead_ as she was used to, and the realization had shocked her into action. She'd done decently on her OWLs, but refused to allow her NEWTs to get away from her. She'd been disappointed by her "Exceeds Expectations" in Defense Against the Dark Arts and didn't wish to face similar disappointment again. She sighed. Time was up, and she needed dinner, but she'd only managed to get two weeks worth of Transfiguration reading done and most of the plant descriptions for Herbology memorized. Disappointing for two and a half hours work, but there was always an hour or so before 'detention', she supposed.

Dinner was interesting to say the least. Ginny and Harry were both talking to her, though she couldn't really concentrate on what they were saying. "Hermione," she heard Harry say as he shook her arm gently.

"Hm? What?" she asked when they finally had her attention.

"I'm going with Ron to get some extra flying practice in," said Harry, "and Ginny wanted you to study with her."

"Sure," Hermione said, "I can for a while at least. I have detention tonight at seven."

Harry accepted her words and left, but Ginny was looking at her shrewdly. She waited until they were nearly to the library to say anything though. "Detention, Hermione? There is only one professor who has ever wanted to give you detention, and from what I remember there is something going on between you and that professor."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "What exactly are you suggesting, Ginny?"

"Oh come off it, 'Mione," said Ginny. "I'm not my brother, I'm not going to get angry with you or judge you because of Professor Snape. Yes, Ron told me what happened, but that doesn't mean I agree with him. That doesn't mean you should try to lie about it either. I see how you have been acting and I know Snape has something to do with it."

Feeling her face heat up and knowing she was going slightly red in the face, Hermione led Ginny to a table in a back corner and brought her voice down to a whisper. "And you told him that it was over a boy. How is that supposed to encourage me to trust you?"

"It wasn't like that," said Ginny, her voice almost sounding like a whine. "I had to say something, and it was the best I could do without time to think of something better. He was getting too close to the truth with his guesses."

"How do you know how close he was?" Hermione asked. "You don't even know what is going on, and it's certainly nothing as interesting as your vivid imagination seems to think."

Ginny just stared at her for a moment, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "That does explain the way you've been walking today. Like someone who got shagged all night long. By the way, where were you last night?"

"You should have been made Slytherin, do you know that?" Hermione was rewarded with a furious glare, though she didn't think Ginny was as angry as she was acting. Opening her books to begin study, she tried to choose her words very carefully. "I don't know yet what is going on. I may have had a good time last night, but I still don't know what to make of it."

"So you _did_ have a good time last night?" asked Ginny mischievously. "How good was it?"

"Not now, Ginny," said Hermione, frustrated. "Let's get some amount of studying done while we have the time."

Some time later Hermione packed up her books and made her way to her room to drop her things off before going for detention. Ginny kept her mouth shut about Snape for the rest of their study time, much to Hermione's relief. Arriving at Severus' study a couple minutes early, she knocked on the door and heard his muffled invitation to enter. Walking in she saw him at his desk, grading papers which sat in several neat stacks on his desk. She smiled. He'd obviously been at work for awhile. He'd taken off his robe and thrown it over onto the couch, leaving him in his black trousers and a fitted shirt of thick black wool. It made him look so rigid and uncomfortable.

What she had told Ginny was true, she really had no idea what to make of her relationship with Severus. Could it even be called a relationship? She was torn between telling herself it didn't matter to her and just asking him straight out. Problem was, she knew very well that it _did_ matter to her. She wasn't the sort of girl who slept around, shagging whoever wanted her and not thinking about consequences. At the same time, she was terrified of asking him. Severus had just begun to open up and relax around her, and Hermione couldn't bear the idea of losing him because she had pushed things too far too fast.

He looked up from his papers momentarily, smiling at her. "I just want to finish this one, and then I'll be a good stopping point. Make yourself comfortable."

She nodded and smiled back at him, walking over to the desk and kissing his neck softly before selecting a book from his library and curling up on the couch. He didn't keep her waiting long, and soon she felt him sit down beside her and wrap his arm around her waist. "Should I leave you to your book, Hermione?"

His voice was scarcely above a whisper, and spoken it such a low tone that she felt a slight chill go up her spine. That mixed with the feel of his warm breath on her neck was enough to drive any thoughts about the book out of her mind. Closing it and setting it off to the side, she turned and felt his lips on hers. It wasn't rough, but neither was he gentle. "Missed me?" she asked him with a laugh.

Severus was quiet for a minute before answering. "Yes, Hermione, I suppose I did a little. Is that bad?"

"Perfectly normal, I think," she told him. "I miss my friends when I don't see them for awhile. Though we did see each other earlier."

"Of course," he said, his eyes going darker and expression going blank.

"Severus? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, worried. She had said something wrong and knew it, but was at a loss as to how to fix things. He started to stand up but she put her arms around him and pulled him back down. "Why are you angry with me?"

"I have nothing to be angry with you for, Miss Granger," he said simply. "As a friend I really couldn't be."

His words sunk in and Hermione realized how she'd hurt him so carelessly. "Severus, you aren't _just_ a friend to me. I was thinking about this earlier, and I just... I don't know how I'm supposed to look at us. I don't know what you want me to consider you."

"I'm not foolish enough to think myself to be, shall we say, attractive or charismatic," he said, refusing to look at her. "I have, however, been foolish in thinking that, for whatever bizarre reason, you didn't mind. That maybe you could still think of me as a... I was right though. It is wrong to involve myself with a student."

_As a lover. _What he had failed to say hung in the air between them, and Hermione was torn as to how to respond. She tried analyzing the situation, but had never found that overly helpful when dealing with Severus Snape. Sighing, she pushed him back against the couch and moved to sit in his lap, straddling him. She took his face between her hands and kissed him roughly. He didn't fight her, but neither did he allow himself to respond to her kiss. "Listen to me, Severus," she told him. "This is nonsense. I do care about you, but I don't know what you expect me to say to remove your doubts. I'm no fool either. I know that I am just a girl and that you are a grown man who, and don't try lying to me about this, has been with numerous women who I probably can't begin to compare to. I might offer some small comfort now, but why should I believe that you will not tire of me?"

"Tire of you?" he repeated slowly. "Why would I tire of you?"

"For the same reason you believe I would have slept with you and yet thought of you as nothing more than a friend," she answered him with a slight smile.

Hermione felt his hands suddenly grip her hips, pulling her closer to him. One hand made its way up her body until it was to her head, and as Severus moved to kiss her he buried his hand in her hair and wrapped it around his fingers. She felt his need growing, and with every move he made it seemed to be his way of showing her how he felt. Minutes later she had very little clothing left on her, and Snape had muttered several spells in the direction of the doorway to ensure they were not interrupted.

Movement on the couch was awkward, and Hermione found herself moved to the floor, with their cloaks spread out beneath her and Severus between her legs. Last night Severus had taken his time, making sure Hermione was ready for him and enjoyed every minute of it. This time he felt a different need for her, and Hermione gasped as she felt him enter her. She had wanted him, but was just barely ready, and she was acutely aware of every inch of him as he pushed himself inside of her. It was rougher, nearly painful, but there was a pleasure accompanying it that could only be described as exquisite. Once more she began to raise her hips to meet each thrust, digging her nails into his back in an attempt to pull him closer to her. Her response caused him to move faster and harder, wanting her to scream for him. "Mine," she heard him say before a particularly hard thrust, and as they finished together she could have sworn she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

They lay there and she wrapped her arms around him, knowing that whatever he was feeling he needed to deal with in his own time. "Hermione," he said finally. "It is late. You should go back before they think there is more to our detentions."

She nodded in agreement, slowly donning her clothes as she had that morning. Before she left he pulled her to him and whispered gently. "I don't know what we are either, Hermione. All I know is you'd tire of me long before I could ever tire of you."


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed and Hermione and Severus spent as much time together as they were able without arousing suspicion. It was still there, but more easily managed. Hermione was going home for the Christmas holiday and even if they _could_ steal some moments together on break, it was far from something to be counted on. So the last night, when nearly everyone else had already left and the rest were staying up late in their common rooms, Hermione had spent it in her professor's arms. At times it had been sweet and slow, at others faster and more desperate.

When she rose to dress the next morning, Hermione had to choose her clothing carefully to cover all the marks Severus had left on her body. Not that she was complaining, she thoroughly enjoyed receiving every single mark and had given many marks to him in return. She was beginning to find pleasure in pain, something the younger Hermione would never have expected. A relationship with Severus was a complicated thing, but in the bedroom he made everything better. She trusted him, knowing he wouldn't intentionally harm her, and knew he had the experience to realize what would or wouldn't be a pleasurable pain.

Hermione had hoped that, with time, he would lighten up a bit and confide in her. It concerned her that he had to lead such a terrible double life, unable to confide in anyone for fear he would be exposed or taken advantage of. At first she had tried to make him see that he could trust her, but with time she had realized it wasn't going to happen that way. One of these days, maybe he would see. Until then she would just have to be satisfied with what she had of him.

"I'll see you at the end of break, Severus," she said softly to him as he sat by the fire, a book in his hand though his eyes had been on her the last half hour. He nodded and returned to his book, causing her to sigh as she walked out the door. He had told her repeatedly that he thought a lot of her, and that he had never slept with a student before, and he wasn't going to tire of her – but all of that didn't seem very convincing when he sat in his chair with his book as she walked out the door.

Holidays with her family were always enjoyable, but Hermione found herself moping more than usual. She tried to act normal when her parents were around, but Hermione was fairly certain they saw at least partially through her acting. They had always been good at that. This year there had been no trips to other countries or fancy outings, it was enough to be at home and with family. She tried to keep the majority of the dangerous things that happened in the wizarding world a secret, but she had a feeling that they saw through that act as well, and that was more than enough to make parents want time with their daughter.

Her parents had gone out shopping for the afternoon and, though they invited her, Hermione had opted to spend the time in their garden. Snow covered the ground and the only color to be found was in the few evergreens peeking out from under their white coverings. It was cold, but sometimes that was the best weather for thinking things over. She stirred from her thoughts long enough to see an owl descend next to her and hold out a letter.

_You asked before if I would tire of your company, and I know you have been ill at ease with the precarious way our relationship has been hanging. I don't have every answer for you, but I believe I may have found some._

_S.S._

Hermione made it halfway through the letter before she started shaking and felt tears flowing down her cheeks. She had worked so hard to bury certain feelings very deeply within her while she was away, and now Severus' letter brought it all back up to the surface. Standing abruptly, she turned to run back inside and ran straight into a tall, dark figure.

Her hands felt a well muscled body under the layers of black fabric and she looked up at the figure's face with mixed feelings about who she believed it to be. There was little time to process what was happening and who she saw before she felt his warm, soft lips cover her own. "Hermione..." he said softly when they broke the kiss.

"Let's go inside," she said, interrupting him. "It's too cold out here for conversation, and we have a while yet before my parents get home."

"I do wish you hadn't told me that," said Severus as she led him indoors. "It makes it more difficult to behave properly knowing us to be alone." His voice was very monotone, but she wasn't fooled by it for a moment.

Hermione took him into the kitchen and pointed him towards the chair. It wasn't until she had made hot chocolate for them both that she spoke. "Alright, now explain what you are doing here."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "I had hoped for a little more enthusiasm regarding my presence."

"You know what I mean, Severus. I am very happy to see you, but I can't decide quite how happy I am until I know what is going on. Not to mention how you managed to arrive right after your owl. That was rather good timing."

"Simple tricks," he told her, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "I will explain another time if you really wish to know. For now I need to get this off my chest before I lose my nerve."

"That's a brilliant idea," said Hermione. "You have such a beautiful chest that it really is a shame to keep that shirt on."

"_Not_ what I meant, Miss Granger," he said, tone serious though she could see the mischief in his eyes.

She grinned. "I'm sorry, Professor, please continue."

"I've missed you, Hermione."

"You certainly didn't seem to think you'd miss me, the way you acted when I left," she said, her mood having turned slightly bitter.

"I was afraid to care," he told her. "Part of me still is but I'm trying to get past that. I knew I'd miss you and I didn't want to go so long without seeing you. I think maybe the dread of these weeks is what made my pride kick in so badly." She said nothing, just sat there staring at him, so he continued. He was good with words, and rarely found himself at a loss with them, but now he found himself stumbling. "I don't...I can't say that I... Hermione, I do care for you more than you realize, I just don't know what label to use for how much I care, and there are some words I've spent my life not saying to anyone. I don't want you feeling as if you aren't important to me just because I can't seem to put it in the right words."

Between his voice, which she always loved hearing, and tortured expression he wore on his face, Hermione had felt herself melting at his words before he'd gotten halfway through. She let him finish though before she went to sit on his lap and kissed he pained look off his face. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, seemingly unwilling to ever let her go.

The front door opened and closed and Hermione heard the voices of her parents in the hallway. She stood up quickly, looking at Severus apologetically as she tried to decide what to do. Severus decided for her. Smiling, he said "I'll see you soon" and disapparated before her parents could walk into the room.

She was sorry he couldn't stay, but her holiday started going a lot better for her now that they had talked.

Severus had told her that he would see her soon, knowing she would never suspect just how soon he intended on seeing her. That night when he had finished all his potions work and was sure she'd be near ready to go to bed, he returned to her home and apparated straight to her bedroom. Hearing voices in the hall he smiled at the knowledge that his timing was every bit as good as he had expected it would be. There was a rather comfortable looking chair in the darkest corner of the room. He went over and sat down in it, eagerly awaiting the time when she would walk through that door.

When she walked into the room a moment later he saw her quickly close the door behind her. He was always so relaxed around her that he didn't think anything of it when she pulled out her wand. Then he heard her say "_silencio_" and realized a little too late that she was on to him.

"Do you have any idea how bad it would have been if my mother could recognize the sound of someone apparating?" she asked him in a hoarse whisper, walking over and sitting on his lap. "It was so low that she thought it was just the house settling, but any witch would have known to suspect it. No, don't give me that look. It's not funny." Of course, though she insisted it wasn't funny, she was still giggling rather loudly by the time she had finished putting a silencing spell on her room and taken it off Severus. She had sat on his lap as if meaning to ride him immediately, and had rolled her hips slightly as she adjusted in his lap to get comfortable, delighting in the knowledge that he was painfully aware of every movement.

"Oh, but you know she would have been delighted to find one of your male professors in your bedroom," he insisted, pulling her to him and half-heartedly attempting to tickle her.

"Hah. Yes, just as delighted as you would be to learn you had an extra class of first years to teach, or perhaps even more delighted than that," she said. "Not that I'm sorry you came back, but I wish you'd warned me earlier."

He shook his head. "That would have taken all of the fun out of it."

"Oh, well if we are trying to make this as fun as possible..." She trailed off as she reached for his clothes and began unfastening them. He glared at her for a moment then added some additional spells to the room in addition to her own and yet another on the door to keep it shut. After that was done he gave her free access to his clothing and began working his hands under hers as he slowly removed it piece by piece.

"So just how much did you miss me?" she asked, moving her arms in such a way as to help him remove her shirt, but managing to grind into him more in the process.

"I think you will return to Hogwarts to find most of the staff ignoring me. Apparently my moods were worse than usual in their eyes, though I daresay it was their own fault for provoking me," he said. Nearly all of their clothes had been removed, and he carried her over to the bed. "How about you, how much did you miss me?"

"My parents have been watching my every move, asking all the questions they can think of about how school is going," she answered as she watched him unbutton his trousers and remove the last remnants of his clothing. He had a wonderfully muscular form, and what little moonlight made its way through her window played beautifully across his features. "Apparently I'm usually a know-it-all, and according to them I've scarcely spoken more than a few words at a time."

The room was a bit chilly so they climbed under the covers for warmth, and he wasted no time in reintroducing himself to her body. "You are a know-it-all," he said with mock severity as he worked his way down her figure, kissing her most sensitive areas lightly and moving on before she could grow too quickly eager. It had been too long since he'd been inside of her, and he planned on taking his time. He buried his face between her legs, alternating between soft kisses and using his tongue to devour her flesh.

Hermione couldn't quite decide how she felt about his teasing. She varied between soft moans, begging him to stop, and using her hands or thighs to urge him onward. His tongue and fingers delved into her, and finally she felt she needed some form of relief. She knew he was too eager for teasing to thrust inside of her with what she craved so badly, so she pushed him away slightly and started her own exploring. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his length, moving further down on the bed so that she could reach him with her mouth. He didn't fight her. Instead he laid back and watched her movements, a slight smile playing across his lips and a look in his eyes that made Hermione feel as though she were on fire. She teased him as he had done to her, touching only the tip at first, then running her tongue lightly all over him and finally taking him fully in her mouth. At times she felt ridiculous when she heard herself moaning under him, but now she was hearing him moan and it thrilled her.

Finally, Severus could stand no more teasing. He pulled her up on the bed and rolled over on top of her, using a finger on her a few moments more before aligning himself at her entrance and burying himself within her. It was late that night before they succumbed to weariness and Severus lay there as he watched her drift off to sleep. Having Hermione laying next him felt right, more so than things had felt for him since the holidays had started. He thought about his feelings for as long as he felt himself able to remain awake, finally letting sleep take him. They slept peacefully all night, Severus' hand never moving from its possessive position on her hip as he lay curled up behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione woke slowly, her mind sharpening gradually as her body rebelled against it. Between her covers and Severus' body, it was nice and toasty in her bed. She had little to worry about compared to her normal stresses, as there were no classes that day and no assignments due anytime soon. She would get further ahead in her reading sometime later, but that was nothing to concern herself with at the moment. She heard Severus mumbling in his sleep and tossing around somewhat, convincing her that her presence wasn't enough to banish bad dreams. Wanting to allow him to continue sleeping, as he had seemed to her terribly lacking in sleep, she merely snuggled closer to him and tried to will herself back to sleep. It was of little use, the more her mind started going, but she wasn't going to complain over the opportunity to lay in his arms.

She heard him mumbling again. This time more clearly and louder. "No... Lily... my love..."

Hermione's eyes shot wide open, and her mind was fully alert. She had felt so happy after their talk yesterday, so at ease, and now here she was laying in his arms while he dreamt about losing another woman. She wasn't stupid. She'd heard enough of his past from others to know the Lily he spoke of had to be Harry's mother, who he had likely loved. She knew it must have hurt him to lose her, but she was not prepared to have him still want Lily when it was she, Hermione, who was still here and wanted so much for him to care for her. Not that she was falling for him. She repeatedly told herself that could not be. But her pride certainly wasn't happy about it. Hermione wasn't sure whether to scream or cry, and as he was asleep and very much unaware of what he was doing, she soon found herself silently crying her eyes out.

The ferocity of her crying caused her to shake, and soon enough Severus was awake and begging her to tell him what was wrong. She knew he would be confused, not sure what had gone so terribly wrong, but she had a difficult time pitying him for that. It was, after all, entirely _his_ fault that she was crying. His first few tries she either refused to answer or claimed that nothing was wrong, but finally he forced her to look him in the eyes and asked her very firmly what was wrong.

"Nothing," she said harshly, bitterness seeping out in her voice. "Except that here I lay in my bed with you here beside me after a night of you fucking me and I get to wake up to you crying out in your sleep for someone else entirely."

His expression switched quickly from surprise, to confusion, to anger, and finally to nothing at all. Whatever he felt, he was well and truly hiding it from her. "Whatever are you referring to?" he eventually asked. "What person would I ever be calling out for."

Only one word was necessary. One name. As she spoke it the tears started all over again, and became worse than before. She hadn't been prepared for it to bother her so much. "Lily."

He said nothing, just stared at her and then sat up in the bed. His arms were no longer around her, and he had finally looked away, and now she felt worse for it. Looking her in the eye had fooled her into thinking he might tell her something even somewhat true. His arms around her had fooled her into thinking he might somewhat care. But here he was withdrawn and not bothering to deny that he loved someone else. Hermione's bitterness overwhelmed her, and her words began to flow without thought. "Is that why you tell me when we are fucking that I am beautiful? Because it isn't me you are seeing, but her? I have heard she was _quite_ lovely, so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that you would want to think of her instead of me, but you could at least have the decency to tell me that instead of letting me think you actually cared for me. I feel like such an idiot for really thinking that..."

"Hermione, shut up," he said, interrupting her tirade.

"I won't shut up," she said, raising her voice even louder. "It's absolutely despicable and what's worse is that I fell for it. It was stupid of me but I really did."

"Hermione..."

"You shut up!" she screamed. Lowering her voice only enough that the neighbors wouldn't be able to make out her actual words, she threw his clothes at him and firmly told him to get out.

"Just listen to me," he pleaded.

"No. Get the fuck out of my home."

He tried pleading with her awhile long, but finally left her alone. While he was there she had been furious, but as soon as he left she fell to the floor and returned to her uncontrollable sobbing. Hours later she rose from the floor, walked quietly to the shower, and attempted to wash every reminder of Severus Snape away. She felt heartbroken and betrayed. When she eventually wandered downstairs she found her mother waiting for her with a hot cup of tea.

"I heard you screaming at someone earlier," her mother said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, mom," Hermione said wearily. "It was just a dream. Just a very bad dream."

Perhaps her mother knew better, as she had known how miserable Hermione had been during her break thus far. But the Grangers were used to oddities from their daughter, regardless of how much they loved her. So where in another situation the issue may have been pursued, in this one it was left alone.

There were so many things that ran through Severus' mind to say at that moment. Excuses, explanations, entreaties. It hurt him more than he would have expected to see the woman before him so distraught. He wanted to hold her, pull her close, and kiss the tears away. But he couldn't. He had seen the betrayed look in her eyes, and knew that she wouldn't believe anything he said just then anyway. What was there to say?

There was always the truth, he supposed. Sometimes, though, truth is not only stranger than fiction, it's also much harder to admit to. Yes, he had loved Lily. As a young man he had pictured marrying her and starting a family, until Potter had gotten in the way. In recent years Severus had accepted the fact that he didn't love Lily like that. He loved her for caring for him when no one else did, for being there as his only real friend. But as a lover? No, he had accepted that they were never meant for such a relationship as that. And now he had Hermione – a beautiful woman who cared for him and he had begun to see very much as a lover. More than a simple lover, really, because he never wanted to let her go.

So how could he explain that his dream hadn't been what she thought? Especially when he wasn't entirely sure what all he had said? The nightmare had been plaguing him for weeks, but it was the first time it had bothered him while they slept in the same bed. It was always the same dream. He would see himself as a boy, making friends with Lily when she lived next door. Then it would fast forward to the night of her death, when Voldemort had taken from him the one thing that proved to him that he was still capable of feeling something other than hate. He would see Lily's body, dead on the floor, and then the body would change. He would see Hermione, laying there lifeless, and he would feel as though his heart had stopped. He would run towards her, but somehow in the dream world he could get no closer to her regardless of how fast he run. It was then that he would inevitably wake.

How do you explain something like that? Better yet, how could he convince her of how much he... well... how much he loved her? That self knowledge was bad enough, but the fact that she had no reason to believe him was worse. He drank bottles of Ogden's in his dungeon rooms until he passed out, trying to escape what he had done.

Days passed, and finally he could bear things no longer. He dragged himself out of bed, preparing himself for what he knew he had to do. He went and chose some muggle clothes to wear, hoping that showing a different side of him might cause her to believe him more readily. It was a foolish hope, but then he was a fool in love. He chose black jeans and a Slytherin green sweater. Over this he pulled on a black leather jacket, and pulled his somewhat long hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he was somewhat surprised to see that the clothes probably took a decade off his age. Severus normally dressed for comfort and to scare people as the "bat of the dungeons." He had almost forgotten how he looked any other way.

He went and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey before leaving. His nerves were all over the place, and he needed to be able to say all the things that were on his mind. Disapparating loudly, he found himself moments later outside of Hermione Granger's home. He hadn't figured out yet just how he was going to get her to talk to him, but figured he could make things up as he went. As it happened, things were far easier than he had expected. Walking up the front steps and knocking loudly, the door soon opened and revealed a pajama-clad Hermione whose hair was up in a ponytail and even messier than usual. Severus thought she looked quite pretty so disarrayed, aside from the dark circles under her eyes that betrayed how she had been crying, but knew he had to do something quickly to prevent her promptly slamming the door in his face.

Going for a good shocking effect, Severus got down on his knees. He felt the wet snow seeping through his trousers but ignored it. "Please hear me out, Hermione."

She looked at him, horrified, then glanced around the neighborhood. "If you are going to act like that then do it inside where the neighbors can't see you," she said, opening the door wider. "Just do it quickly, and leave me be."

"Will your parents mind?" he asked, not sure how he would explain himself to her family. After all, if for whatever reason a professor saw fit to visit a student at their home, it generally didn't include said professor getting on his knees and begging.

"It's Monday, Severus," she said impatiently. "They have jobs and can't afford that long of a holiday. I, however, had planned on enjoying the rest of my holiday by sleeping in."

He was getting nowhere, and he knew it. Fine, if she was going to act cold and unconcerned, then he would say what he came to say and be done with it. "I dream about Lily's death, yes. I have ever since she died. But it has become worse these past weeks because the dreams have changed and now I see someone laying there dead who I love more than Lily."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who else do you picture when fucking me?"

"No one else," he growled. "Why is it you could overlook my faults enough to sleep with me but can't believe that I might actually care about you?"

"Oh, I believe you care..." she said, glaring at him. "Care about whether I'm there to get you off."

"Listen to me, witch," he said, backing her up against the hallway wall. "I do enjoy sleeping with you, or whatever term you wish to use for those actions. I enjoy waking up in the morning to find you curled up beside me. I have grown attached to the idea of having you there physically, but it is _not_ the only reason I care. I love you, Hermione, as much as the situation doesn't entirely make sense to me. You are the only one to ever understand me, and whether it was due to the spell or not, it is inevitable that I would feel affection towards you. Nearly hate myself for it, but that doesn't matter anymore."

Hermione relaxed, and a tenderness entered her eyes though she still held the rest of her expression quite controlled. "Why hate yourself?"

"Because you are my student. I am old enough to be your father. I have a dark past that you don't need to have holding you back or pulling you down. You deserve a young wizard who is charming and handsome. Someone you could go out in public with without shame. Someone who—"

"Severus," she interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Shut up," she said, kissing him gently. "I won't be your student much longer. You aren't my father and neither would I wish for a wizard my age. Everyone has a past, and the fact that yours was more painful and dark than most only shows me how strong of a man you are. You are charming and handsome when you want to be, though I suppose I won't tell the rest of the wizarding world your secret if you don't want them to know it. And if it wasn't for my wishing to protect your reputation as a Hogwarts professor, there is no reason I would want to avoid being in public with you."

"But—"

She raised a finger and gently placed it on his lips. "No, I am still talking. I have known for awhile that I love you, though this is the first time I've admitted it to myself. However, I will not accept being a substitute for a woman you lost years ago, and I will also not accept you being with me simply because I'm a young, foolishly willing witch. It scared me to think either of those could be the case."

"Never," said Severus, holding her close.


	9. Chapter 9

Severus woke up quite happily, then looked around at the disaster that was his room. His mood darkened as the hangover hit him and he realized it had been a dream. He hadn't explained things to Hermione, and she hadn't forgiven him. Part of him wondered if she ever would, and another part whispered dark thoughts in his mind. _You have no right to her forgiveness_, it said. _You are a dark man who doesn't deserve such a witch, and it was wrong for you to take advantage of her. She is a _student_, you selfish man. _

After a life of dark thoughts and darker deeds, it was far too easy for Severus to fall victim to his own guilt and depression. His life had been disappointment after disappointment, and endless attempts to fix those things which he had done wrong. Why should now be any different? _No,_ he thought. _This is all I am good for. To die for a world that others might enjoy_.

And die he would. He was a survivor, but had lost his will to survive. He would serve his purpose, and let that purpose take him to the grave.

Severus made no attempts to obtain her forgiveness when she came back after the holidays. She refused to look at him, and he let himself suffer in silence. To him, it was no more than what he deserved. Seasons came and went, as did the summer holiday. He saw her work harder to help her friends, returning for the beginning of her seventh year. It may have only been months, but she seemed to have aged a decade. So too, though, had he. What little happiness he'd been able to find in his dismal life was no longer satisfying. He applied all of his energy to bringing down Voldemort – creating a world in which she could be happy even though it wouldn't be with him.

He did what was required of him. He killed Dumbledore when Draco found he lacked the strength. He played the role of the dark, evil Headmaster. He groveled at the feet of the Dark Lord, disgusted with himself all the while, and he bided his time. When the time came for the Dark Lord to finally fall, Severus accepted that it would be at the cost of his own death. He took with him a bezoar and plenty of blood replenishing potion, but did so knowing that he would never use them on himself. No, it would be far better for everyone if he let himself die.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione was preparing herself to help Harry face Voldemort once more. They had spent so much time and effort in search of horcruxes, and managed to destroy most of them. They were _so_ close, but still Hermione felt empty and numb. In front of her friends she had managed to once more be the Hermione they knew, and even gave a relationship with Ron a try, but nothing could get her past what had happened between herself and Severus Snape. Some days she'd be reading about some spell or potion and start wondering how he would have improved on it or known shortcuts that made it easier. Time didn't seem to fix the dull ache she felt in her heart whenever he was on her mind, which was to some degree most of the time.

So much of her was centered on her loyalty to others. Her every spare moment was used trying to find something to tip matters in Harry's favor. Her mind worked at a dizzying pace trying to develop means of protecting everyone. She wanted victory so badly, but somehow every time she pictured what victory would be like it seemed hollow. Weak. Unfulfilling. The only victory that mattered to her was the one she saw in her dreams, the one with Severus. In her waking hours, though, she firmly cast that out of her mind.

And now, after so long, the time had come. Battle was looming. They had found the diadem and destroyed it, and now everything was descending into chaos as Voldemort's forces attacked. Everything became a blur of fast thinking and a steady barrage of spells.

As one thing led to another, Hermione found herself in the Shrieking Shack with Harry and Ron, hiding under the invisibility cloak as they watched a scene unfurl before them. Voldemort was there, and so was Severus. Gods, she wanted so much to run to him and throw her arms around him. But no, she had her pride, and it had been made painfully clear that she didn't mean to him what he meant to her.

She watched in horror as Voldemort released Nagini and spoke a command in parseltongue. It was all she could do not to scream as she watched the serpent tear into Severus' body, embedding her poison in his veins. She felt paralyzed, unable to move. When finally Harry went to Severus' side, and received his memories, it broke Hermione's trance. She threw the rest of the cloak off of herself and went as fast as she could to his side. "Severus..." she said weakly, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it back behind his ear.

He seemed unable to move, the poison and injuries draining the last traces of his strength. He looked up at her with those eyes that were like pools of liquid black, and she felt her heart breaking. "Hermione," he said weakly. "always... love... you..."

Tears stung her eyes and she ignored the inquisitive look on Harry's face. For her, at that moment, there was nothing that mattered but Severus. And he was dying.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As his breathing became slower and more strained, Hermione was forced out of her despair and into action. She searched his pockets and finally found what she knew he would have with her. Quickly forcing him to swallow the bezoar and then the potions she could identify, she also cast every healing spell she knew that she thought might help.

"Hermione, it's too late," said Harry, standing behind her. "We have to go. There is a battle to be fought."

How could she leave him? For all Hermione knew, if Severus survived it would still be Lily he loved and she would always come in second in that regard. But that didn't matter in the moment. She loved him, and regardless of all else she had to do what she could for him. Even if she found the strength within herself to leave him to die here, she would never be able to put her heart into the battle knowing that she had left him. If she survived, she would live out her life in a misery deeper and darker than even that Severus had been dealing with.

"We all have our own battles, Harry," she told him through her tears. "For now, this is mine. Be safe, but I cannot go with you."

Harry stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to make of her behavior. It was not the Hermione he knew before him, but a young woman who was breaking down and desperate. He and Ron returned to Hogwarts through the tunnel, though Ron was less than happy about the arrangements. As soon as they were gone Hermione took a deep breath and apparated herself and Severus to the only place she could think of.

"27 Spinner's End."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Inside the house were signs that his home had been used at some point by his fellow Death Eaters, but they seemed long gone. No sooner had she arrived with him than a small, elderly looking house elf popped into the room and ran over with cries of "Master! What happened to the Master?"

Hermione sat there cradling his body and getting soaked in his blood. "He was attacked by Voldemort's snake, Nagini. The poison...its worked its way into his blood." she answered numbly.

"Miss is trying to save the Master?" asked the house elf. "You is Miss Hermione?"

Hermione forced her eyes off of Severus and looked up at the house elf. "How did you know?"

"Master talks of you when he thinks no one is listening, he does. Missy couldn't help but hear him. He loves you, Miss Hermione."

"Missy? That's your name?" Hermione choked out. "Where does Severus keep his potions and supplies? And can you move him to a bed?"

"Of course, Miss Hermione. Missy will take care of everything for the Master."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As Severus lay in his bed unconscious, his mind raced. He dreamt of everything that happened, and he dreamt that Dumbledore came to him. Whether it was truly happening, or whether it was just a figment of his imagination, mattered surprisingly little to him.

"Dumbledore," said Severus, "I need to know. That book... that spell... was it your doing?"

"It would be quite thrilling were that the case," answered Dumbledore casually, a secretive smile on his face. "Of course, if I knew something of it I would not go around admitting it. It would seem, though, that all the two of you needed was the slightest push for this happiness. If it came in the form of putting an old book in the path of a young girl, or casting a charm on a certain page to encourage her to use the spell described, what does it matter?"

"Do you think we would have cared for each other eventually without that push?" asked Severus, slightly concerned at the thought that their affection was merely that of two people being manipulated, even if she would never agree to be with him again.

"I think the two of you would have found each other eventually," Dumbledore told him as he walked away, into the darkness that surrounded them.

"Thank you, Albus," said Severus, unsure whether the Headmaster even heard him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Severus woke and learned from Missy that he had been sleeping for three days. His whole body ached and his strength was next to gone, but when he glanced over and saw Hermione curled up, asleep beside him, all the pain of the past days seemed trivial. The house elf fed him some broth as he lay in bed, and they both tried not to move so as not to wake Hermione.

"The Miss was tired," Missy told him in a low voice. "Miss was at the battle. Miss brought Master here and stayed awake to heal Master. Miss refused to sleep until Master's fever broke last night."

"I think I need to be alone with Hermione, Missy," Severus said.

The house elf popped out of the room with the tray of food, and Severus used what strength he could muster to roll over and pull himself closer to Hermione. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him without moving. "I'm sorry, Hermione, for everything. I don't love Lily anymore, and I don't think the love I felt for her was of this nature. The way I feel for you. I'm old enough to be your father, and I'll be lucky not to be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of my life. But I love you, Hermione, and I just hope you can forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Sev," she told him. "I'm just sorry I didn't come back to you sooner. Sorry I didn't act sooner to help you. I love you too."

He kissed her forehead gently, the only part of her he could reach. "There is nothing worth regretting. We are both going to have to work to put our pasts behind us."

They were silent for a few minutes until Severus finally found the words to ask what I wanted so badly to ask. "You will have a bright future ahead of you. You saw through me and into who I am inside, and I will always be grateful for it. But I don't want to hold you back when there is so much you can achieve. I will understand if you leave me for better things, but if you stay I want you to know I will always love you. There will always be a place for you by my side, if you want it."

She looked sad for a moment, overcome with emotion. "Better things? Here I was thinking that other people judged you too harshly, like judging books by their cover. Turns out you judge yourself by far harsher standards than any other. It's only a bright future if you are there. I'm yours. Always."

_Finis._


End file.
